A Ghost of a Chance (10 page)

“I’m really sorry. I appreciate your taking me home. I’ll never darken your doorstep again…”

“Not on your life, mister.” She barely glanced at her side mirror when she turned right onto Burnside, cutting in front of another driver, who honked his horn. “You and I had a date, remember? You owe me breakfast.”

What with his house demolished, his life threatened not once, but twice, and the arrest, the date had completely slipped his mind. Her nonchalant acceptance of the situation floored him. It had to be a mistake…or he had died and gone to flasher heaven.

“Listen, you don’t have to…”

“You’re not worming your way out of it, so get comfortable. You want to go home first to change?” She watched the road and Keenan watched her. The silhouette of her jaw line made him almost forget the last twelve hours.

“Yeah,” he replied absently.

“Great. I’d love to see your place. I’ve never been to the Hawthorn District. I’ve heard the old houses are awesome.”

That brought him back to reality with a jolt. His house was a war zone and he knew he couldn’t explain it. He thought as fast as his idiot brain would allow him and said, “On second thought, maybe we can skip the house tour today. It’s a mess. How about I take you on one later this week?”

Her amused look was difficult to read… a cross between smug and embarrassed. It took her face beyond the beautiful range and brought it up a notch to magnificent. Keenan fought back the urge to touch her.

“Deal,” she said and looked behind her to slide into the left lane.

She just missed three other cars as she sped through Southeast Portland like a maniac. Keenan grabbed the “oh, Jesus” bar until his knuckles went white. Isabella swerved around another car that obviously wasn’t going fast enough for her tastes and said, “Don’t worry, Kee. Haven’t killed anyone…yet.”

The nickname startled him and he tightened his grip with purpose. “Okay…Is,” he said pointedly. “Promise me I won’t be the first and I’ll let go.”

A frightening chuckle escaped her lovely lips. “No promises, my friend. Hang on!” The car careened through traffic and Keenan closed his eyes. His hand stayed put.

When they arrived at
The Hotcake House
, the lot was packed, but there were still a couple of slots open, so Isabella shoehorned the car into one. Keenan knew if they could get into the lot, they could get into the building and have breakfast. The place was one of the most popular in Portland and had been the size of a shoebox for fifty years, despite that. The owners had no interest in expanding.

Keenan opened the door for Isabella and a waft of pancakes, syrup, bacon, and chatter closed in around them.

“Two?” a young woman asked.

“Yes.”

A flush of embarrassment ran through Keenan’s arms when he looked down at his clothes; they were wrinkled and dirty from the previous night’s adventure. In a sudden panic, he realized he didn’t know where his wallet was, but then remembered. He opened the clear envelope still clutched in his arms and saw it snug inside, along with his keys and cell phone. With nimble dexterity, he pulled them out and tucked them into his pockets. The rubbing bulges felt good, familiar, the first normalcy of the day. When he tossed the empty evidence envelope on the reception counter, the hostess gave him a patient nod. Obviously, she had seen it all.

She escorted them to the front of the building next to an immense plate-glass window facing Powell and handed them menus. The menus were a single laminated sheet with food items on only one side; all they served were eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns, toast, steaks, hamburgers, french-fries, and the best hotcakes in the country.

When the woman left, Isabella leaned across the table and touched Keenan’s hand. The heat of her fingers went straight to his core. All his muscles, except one, relaxed at her touch. That one was doing aerobics.

“Are you all right?”

He placed his hand on top of hers and a flicker of satisfaction spread like wildfire through him. Despite everything that had happened the last twenty-four hours, none of that mattered when he was with her. He surrendered without a fight.

“Fine,” he said, examining the soft features on the back of her hand. “Just tired.” He searched her eyes and had to smile. “Sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass.”

“Apology accepted. Don’t worry, Kee…my lips are sealed.”

I’d love to seal your lips.

Keenan shook the thought out of his head and sipped his coffee.

“You’re good,” he said. “If it were me, I doubt I’d take the risk on a relative stranger. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, I think if I were busted for exposing myself you’d be the first in line.” Isabella’s eyes softened and Keenan’s mouth fell.

“Naughty girl.”

The enigmatic smile that dusted her lips made her look like a goddess in the early morning light. “Oh, much worse than that. You’d be surprised.”

“I guess so.” Was there a hidden hot cauldron of desire buried under that professional façade? Keenan only hoped. “Why’d you do it?”

Isabella took in a deep breath of coffee fumes and tilted the cup. Watching the clouds of cream swirl through the dark liquid, she wrapped both hands around the cup. “Not sure,” she said, and Keenan thought he saw a moment of regret pass through her face. “I’ll lose my job if they find out. Not exactly professional to bail out an employee, even if I ended up not having to. I’m supposed to report it.”

“They’ll have to torture the truth out of me,” he said gallantly. The sound of Isabella’s laugh was like a drug.

“You’d probably like that.”

Another surprise. Keenan loved surprises. “Torture’s a little over the top. A short beating usually gets my attention.”

“I’ll remember that.” There was that twinkle in her eyes again. Her smile faded and she sat back. “Seriously, you need to be careful. The company has a strict policy against being arrested. If the cops had actually pressed charges, I’d have to report it. I’d hate to do that, especially to someone I really like.”

Alarm bells (
or was it bird song
) went off in his head followed by a waitress sidling up to the table.

“Good morning, folks. What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have a short stack,” Isabella said, handing the waitress the laminated sheet.

The woman took the menu and nodded. “And you, sir?”

“Same, thanks.”

The woman gave him a quick smile, took his menu, and scooted back to the open kitchen.

“You like me?” Keenan tried not to sound anxious and failed miserably.

“Can’t stand you. I bail out every man who asks me,” Isabella said with a saucy tilt of her head. “Honestly,” she added with a huff. “Not very bright, are you? I’ve been trying to get you to ask me out for two weeks. I was beginning to think my womanly wiles weren’t going to work on you. Thought maybe you might be gay.” She paused. “You’re not, are you?”

“Nope. Flaming heterosexual.”

“Thought so. Anyway, this was a golden opportunity I just couldn’t resist. I took the chance you weren’t a serial killer or something. Surprised even me, to tell you the truth. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Bewilderment was a two by four smacking him in the back of the head. He couldn’t speak.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” she asked.

“What?”

“I saved your life. You’re my bitch now.”

This was just getting better and better. Funny, Keenan was sure this was going to be the worst day of his life. Just goes to show, you never know what’s going to happen. He knew the shit ass grin on his face was coming across as desperate, but at least it was honest.

“Oh, great mistress,” he said, bowing low over the table. “I am your humble slave. Do with me what you will.”

She paraded those brilliant white teeth at him and raised an eyebrow. “Trust me…that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

Keenan’s cock jumped up and did the happy dance all by itself under the table.
Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Oh, boy!
The rest of his body followed right behind.

“Check please,” he said to the room. Isabella laughed.

It was just at that moment that the pancakes, and Reggie, appeared.

The pancakes were silent, but Reggie broke the mood with, “Just had to see it with my own eyes. What a lovely creature.”

Keenan had never been more irritated. He tossed his napkin on the table and said to Isabella, “I’ll be right back,” then headed for the john. Skating through the tables, he made his way to the door and slammed against it with both hands to open it. Fortunately, the john was empty.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked Reggie who was floating in front of the urinal swinging a phantom walking stick back and forth.

“Where are your manners, boy? I just came here to tell you something.” He laughed and twirled the stick over his head. “I can’t for the life of me remember what it was. That girl just took it clean away. Maybe I’ll get
her
to try to feel me…”

“You stay away from her, Reggie.” The words came out with force and Reggie’s smile deepened.

“Much too good for the likes of you,” he teased, but there was something simmering behind his eyes that Keenan didn’t like.

“Look…,” he replied, trying to keep his temper. “…just leave me alone right now. I’ve got a real chance here and I don’t want to blow it. I’ll do anything you want, I promise.”

The glare in Reggie’s eyes was almost tangible now and it gave Keenan the willies.

“Anything?”

Keenan hesitated before saying, “Yeah. Anything. Deal?”

A huge grin split Reggie’s lips and with a flip of his hand, everything disappeared, except his lips. “Deal.” They blinked out of the room. Keenan splashed water on his face before leaving.

When he got to the table, Isabella had a good start on the pancakes. He loved a girl with a healthy appetite.

She lifted her eyes and said from around a mouth of food, “That was fast. Nerves?”

Keenan sat down. “Nerves?”

Swallowing, she dabbed her mouth with the corner of the napkin. “Thought maybe you were crawling out the back window to head for the hills. Sometimes I have that effect on people.”

Keenan drowned his pancakes in syrup and said, “Not me. There’s just something special about girls who rescue me, a kind of glow.”

“So, this happens often, does it?”

Keenan put his elbows on the table, leaning in to get closer to her. His shirt was probably soaking up the syrup, but he didn’t care. “Nope. First time.”

Her voice turned serious when she shifted her gaze to the food. “Well, I hope that’s true. I’m in big trouble if not…in more ways than one.”

“I’ll bet you’re in trouble a lot.”

The quip created an unexpected effect. Isabella’s lips curled down and a visible quiver rushed over her shoulders. “Sometimes,” was all she said.

Keenan frowned and again touched the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Is. I was just kidding.”

Her face melted into a pleasant softness. “It’s nothing. Just have a past with an attitude, that’s all. When I was younger, I got in big trouble and still have to live with it. It haunts me every day of my life. You know what I mean?”

“Absolutely,” Keenan said, tracing the fine hairs on the back of her fingers. The sensation was sending sparkling needles up both his arms, down his sides, and into his cock. He had never felt like this before. “Something happened to me when I was a kid too, something that changed my life. I won’t bore you with the details.”

A kind of sharp curiosity lightened her eyes and she put her fork down. She smelled like exotic spices, and the heady scent fell through Keenan’s inhibitions like solvent.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” she whispered.

He took his hands away and leaned back against the booth seat.

“You’re kidding, right? Deep, dark secrets are nothing to fool with, young lady. You’d own me outright if I give them up. I’d have to be awful motivated.”

Keenan picked up his coffee cup to take a sip, wondering if she’d take the bait. He wasn’t going to tell her his real secret, of course. But he was quick on his feet and could come up with something special, if he put his mind to it. He loved this sort of game and Isabella was the perfect player. Obviously, she loved it too, since her eyes were flashing like opals. She sat back and licked her lips. He had never been more jealous of a tongue.

“All right,” she drawled out slowly, “tell you what, you give me one of your dark secrets, and I’ll give you one of mine. First to chicken out loses, okay?”

“Let’s make it interesting,” he replied, letting an ember of innuendo warm his voice. “How about a little truth or dare. The first person to fail to answer the question or refuse the dare loses and has to do whatever the winner says. We have to be completely honest. You game?”

Her jaw moved back and forth, and her lips pursed so close to a pucker Keenan could hardly contain himself. Isabella looked doubtful.

He allowed a slow knowing smirk to screw up his face before saying, “What? My tough little woman going all girlie on me? Afraid to play with the big boys?”